Punishment
by slightlysickpsycho
Summary: Pansy catches Ginny out of bed. Oneshot, dominant!Pansy. I know it might be a weird pairing, but try it :
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter books.

Please review!

Pansy isn't like the other girls.

She stalks the corridors long after dark, prefect badge shining dully on her chest in the moonlight that spills through high windows. No cloak covers the crisp white shirt of her uniform; she refuses to admit vulnerability, even to the chilly night air. Her skirt dances around pale thighs as she moves, lithe, catlike.

Dark eyes glisten as she spots her prey. She follows the gangly redhead in silence until she gets close enough to push Ginny's back against the wall.

"Out after dark, Weasley?" she hisses, wand pressed against unblemished freckled neck. She has to look up to meet the honey-brown eyes. Pansy is tiny, but her gaze is enough to make Ginny feel twelve years old again, helpless, awkward, out of place.

Ginny stiffens and looks directly back at Pansy, trying desperately to imitate the poise she had in such abundance mere hours ago. "Leave me alone, Parkinson."

"Why would I do that?"

Ginny's palms are sweating and she doesn't know why. She can feel Pansy's hot breath on her neck, the cold stone against her back. The smaller girl's feral grin makes her feel a little dizzy and she desperately longs for the warmth and safety of her bed.

"If you're going to punish me," she fights to keep her voice from quivering, though she doesn't know just what she fears, "go ahead and get it over with."

Pansy's eyes flick over Ginny's body, savoring the slender, muscular form with such delicate little curves. She's always had a weakness for long legs, and she can almost see the outline of Ginny's thighs through that thin nightgown. Almost.

"I'm going to punish you," Pansy whispers, making the back of Ginny's neck prickle exquisitely, "but I plan on taking my time."

Pansy takes a moment to savor the widening of amber eyes and the explosion of a fiery blush.

Ginny swallows thickly. "You can't- you can't do that."

"Oh, I disagree." Pansy's lips are grazing the skin beneath Ginny's ear, flooding the younger girl's body with the heat of her toxic whispers.

"What?"

Pansy smirks. Under normal circumstances, Ginny could never be so daft.

"I'll do whatever I want, for as long as I want, and you're not going to stop me."

"I'm not afraid of you." It almost sounds like a question. Ginny is feeling more unsure by the minute, and Pansy's body is moving closer.

"Oh," Pansy says, eliciting a shudder as her icy fingertips press against the bare skin above Ginny's heart, "I think you are."

Pale fingers wrap in bright red hair, pulling so hard Ginny cries out.

"That hurts." She whines.

"Tell me to stop." Pansy hisses.

Ginny can't force her mouth to form that one simple word. Pansy chuckles.

"That's what I thought." She has to stretch a little to kiss Ginny, but that does nothing to diminish the power behind her thin lips.

Pansy's tongue pushes into Ginny's mouth, and Ginny moans, not even sure herself whether in protest or pleasure. The kiss is rough, demanding, possessive. When Pansy finally pulls back, Ginny is gasping for breath.

"Why did you do that?" Ginny pants, unable to wrap her wildly spinning mind around what's happening.

"Shut up, Weasley." Her hands slide down Ginny's sides, pressing thin fabric against hot skin, moving lower and lower until she catches the nightgown's hem near Ginny's ankles. She relishes the startled gasp as she jerks it up, the way Ginny's arms wrap around her body and cling to the material. Pansy's voice is dangerous. "Take it off."

Fuck, she loves the way Ginny blushes.

"What? We're in the middle of the hall! Someone could see me!"

"You should have thought of that before sneaking out of bed, little girl."

"I'm only a year younger than you are!"

"Then stop being a whiny little twat and take it off!"

Ginny grows even redder and her hoarse voice is barely audible, "But I'm not wearing anything underneath."

"Good." Pansy jerks the nightgown over her head and throws it on the floor. She'll never admit to anyone how many times she's imagined what Ginny Weasley looked like under those robes. It's even better than she expected. The girl is slender, but well defined from years of Quidditch. Her small breasts are perfectly round and pink nipples stand at attention, begging to be teased. Every inch of her is dusted with tiny freckles, and the soft auburn curls between her legs glisten, slightly damp. Pansy explores every inch, savoring the moans and desperate cries her touch creates. Ginny reaches down to return her caresses, but Pansy slaps her hand away.

"Did I say you could touch me, Weasley?"

"No," Ginny breathes, "but I never said you could- ohhh!"

Pansy drinks in the intoxicating nectar, nuzzling the silky hair between Ginny's legs, enjoying the way the other girl trembles against her face, pinning Ginny's hips against the wall with surprisingly strong hands as the younger girl bucks and writhes beneath her.

Ginny never thought she even liked girls this way, but everything inside her is spinning and colliding. She feels like she might faint, and the pleasure is almost more than she can bear. Suddenly, sharp nails rake down her stomach, leaving angry red marks, and she cries out, shuddering hard against pleasure like nothing she's felt before.

Pansy stands up, licking her lips lewdly and smirks. Ginny falls to her knees and looks up pleadingly into cold dark eyes. Her hand finds Pansy's knee, starts sliding upward.

"Can I-"

"No." Pansy sneers at her. "Get back to bed, Weasley."

"But don't you want-"

She smirks. "Maybe another time, if you're good enough."

And without another word she stalks away, leaving Ginny naked on the stone floor, foggy, confused, and so utterly content she can barely manage to pull the nightgown back over her body and wander back to Gryffindor tower.

Pansy isn't like the other girls. Then again, Ginny isn't either.


	2. Chapter 2

k you!Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter books.

I loved this story so much I had to add a second part. I don't know if I'll add more updates after this one or not.

Please review!

For Alyss, who always inspires me ;)

Ginny rolls over in bed, kicking against sheets that cling to sweaty naked legs. She lets out a restless sigh and stares into the darkness with wide amber eyes. It's been two weeks since Pansy cornered her in the halls, and she hasn't had a good night's sleep since. She keeps dreaming of dark glittering eyes, flawless pale skin and coal black hair, of fingers like steel talons scraping down her bare stomach, of the hot tongue moving relentlessly against her desperately needy sex.

Ginny sits up, pulling on Ron's old bathrobe and a pair of faded cotton shorts. She's been staying out of the halls ever since Pansy caught her out of bed, but tonight she can't resist sneaking down to the kitchen for a cold butterbeer. She only wishes she had something stronger to dull the pain of her hopelessly obsessive thoughts.

Ginny grabs two cold bottles, relishing the almost painful bright icy feeling of slick glass against her skin. She prods the lid to the first with her wand, watching with dull, tortured eyes as the cap pops off and clatters against the heavy old wooden table.

Incredibly dark, catlike eyes glitter from the doorway, watching the arch of Ginny's neck as she throws her head back and drinks. She's halfway through one of the bottles by the time Pansy speaks, snorting derisively when Ginny is nearly startled off of the bench.

"Is the other one for me, or do you make a regular habit of pounding butterbeer alone in the middle of the night?"

Ginny blushes crimson as Pansy leans impossibly close, reaching over a robe clad shoulder, gasping as the ice cold bottle grazes her flushed freckled neck, leaving a small trail of tingling goose bumps. Pansy downs the butterbeer faster than Ginny would think possible. Her posture is predatory and her anticipation is palpable. Both hearts are racing. Ginny opens her mouth to speak, but after a desperate moment of fumbling for words, simply turns back around and finishes her drink.

Pansy smirks. "Didn't think you had it in you."

Ginny turns to face her, and their eyes meet for the first time since their encounter in the frigid moonlit corridor. Ginny tries to keep her gaze from exploring every inch of Pansy, but though she's only had one drink, she finds this almost impossible. She's spent days and days now trying not to look at or think about the Slytherin, and failing spectacularly. She's been watching Pansy wear her skirt a little shorter each day, closing her eyes tight when she found herself behind the tiny girl on a crowded staircase, trying to stop herself from being hypnotized by Pansy's lithe, predatory gait.

"Nothing to say to me?" Pansy is reaching into the back of the freezer now, and Ginny is a little surprised she's not reacting to the frozen objects that press against her naked skin as she slides her arm deeper. Ginny raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Sorry. Guess I'm not sure what the proper greeting is in our situation."

Pansy giggles, and the sound makes Ginny's stomach flip, though she struggles not to let it show. The dark haired girl smirks wickedly, sitting on the bench next to Ginny, close enough for the heat of Pansy's naked leg to blaze through the younger girl's thin cotton pants while both of them studiously pretend not to notice their bodies are touching.

"I don't know about you," the Slytherin says, dark eyes sparkling, "but I could go for a _real_ drink." She plunks frosty bottle on the table and pops it open, watching the other's reaction carefully. "Ever had Firewhiskey, little girl?"

"Don't call me that," Ginny muttered, "I'm not twelve. Of course I've had it." She watches in awe as Pansy drinks deeply from the bottle. "Aren't we going to mix it with something?"

"I thought you said you weren't twelve." Pansy rolls her eyes, offering Ginny the bottle. Amber eyes widen.

"Shouldn't I at least chase it?"

"Are you having some or not?"

Ginny nods, taking the bottle and swallowing a large mouthful before coughing. Pansy giggles, but her voice doesn't carry its usual mocking edge. When the coughing subsides, she passes the firewhiskey back and gathers the courage to steal a glance at the subject of so many furtive late night imaginings.

Each time the bottle changes hands, fingertips brush wrists and palms and dare to linger just a little longer than they dared before. Pansy's hands feel burning hot, something that surprises Ginny, though she isn't entirely sure why. Ginny hopes the frigid goddess on the bench beside her attributes the flush creeping through freckled cheeks to the alcohol, and not to the way perfect pale pink lips press against the bottle's mouth. She tries not to stare at the way seemingly infinite strands of unimaginably fine black hair fall over Pansy's shoulders when she throws her head back to swallow the potent concoction.

The bottle is almost half empty now, and Ginny wonders where the contents could have gone. The anguish and chaos crashing through her body have been reduced to a small, yet intense whirlpool of confusion and desire.

She jumps as Pansy's sharp elbow jabs into her side.

"Wha?"

"You said you've had this before."

"Huh?"

"You're wasted. Fucking lovely. What am I going to do with you now?"

Ginny's head snaps up hopefully before she can stop it. Pansy just rolls her eyes and stands up.

"Come on."

"Where?"

"I can't leave you drunk in the kitchen. You have to stay with me until you sober up some at least." Pansy starts pacing. "I guess I can take you to the prefects bathroom, but you can NEVER tell _anyone._"

"Why would I even admit to drinking something you gave me?"

Pansy shrugs and stands, Ginny scrambles to her feet to follow the lithe, dark eyed girl out of the room and through winding halls. Pansy is a few paces ahead by the time they reach the entrance, so Ginny doesn't hear the muttered password before they stumble through.

Suddenly, Ginny turns to face Pansy, looking defiant. "I'm not pathetic." She says, and Pansy cocks her head.

"Were we talking, Weasley? I didn't notice."

"I was just saying I'm not going to be all weak if you try to molest me again. I'll kick your ass." The last sentence carried heavy hints of false confidence.

"_Molest you_, Weasley?" Dark, shimmering eyes narrowed. "I think you loved what I did to you."

"No…" Ginny sounded unconvinced.

Pansy's right arm darted behind her back, and before Ginny knew what was happening, the dark haired demon girl's skirt had fallen around her ankles to reveal a total lack of panties.

Ginny turned fuchsia, head swimming, and struggled to look away.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Harry Potter books.

This one just keeps growing!

Please review!

For Alyss, who always inspires me ;)

"I know you want me," Pansy murmurs softly, completely unfazed by the way Ginny's eyes devour her, "I know you've spent the last few weeks baffled by what happened, driven insane wondering how I might taste." Pansy doesn't mention that she's been obsessing over Ginny, wearing short skirts and placing herself in the redhead's line of sight whenever possible.

"Don't be stupid." Ginny sounds unsure, is backing up, has no idea what to do now that she's inches away from the woman who keeps her awake at night. Ginny thinks of herself as a girl, and even used to see Pansy as one too, but there's nothing childish about the Slytherin's feral stance, and she knows now, without a doubt, that Pansy is a _woman. _

Pansy smirks as Ginny's back bumps against the wall, then thin lips catch plump pink freckled ones and suddenly both of them are in over their heads.

"Stop," Ginny gasps, pulling her mouth away from the tantalizing taste and warmth that previously enveloped her tongue. Pansy glares at her with obsidian eyes, and the redhead shrinks in her skin.

To Ginny's complete shock and confusion, Pansy draws back. "Is that what you want?" she whispers, hot breath dancing over Ginny's flushed and uncomfortably exposed neck.

Ginny is reeling. She doesn't want Pansy to stop, she realizes. She would do anything to keep the black and white vixen from slipping out of her grasp and back into the night.

"Please" is all Ginny can muster, but it has to be enough because their lips are crashing and Pansy is pulling her hair and it's all she can do not to cry out with the sensations that shake her to her core.

And Ginny wants to scream, '_I love you'_, even though she has never loved Pansy and probably never will. Everything she feels when their lips crash together is more than she can bear, and far more than she thinks she could feel for anyone else. Instead she lets out a soft moan, but the moan is far more desperate and need filled than she intended.

Ginny can feel Pansy's arrogant smirk against her lips, but she's drowning in the feeling of _everything_, enough to not care that Pansy is a stupid, arrogant bitch. Instead of pushing Pansy away and yelling at her, Ginny kisses back with wild abandon, forgetting everything she thought she stood for.

Pansy's taste is bitter, harsh, and intoxicating, much like the firewhiskey they shared earlier in the evening, but at the same time, nothing like it. Firewhiskey is something Ginny could have turned her back on. Now, she finds herself tasting something much more dangerous, something impossible to resist.

Pansy senses that Ginny is giving in, being swallowed whole, and she rakes her feline teeth across the redhead's plump, inviting lips, eliciting a delicious shudder.

"No," Ginny mutters into Pansy's cool lips, but her voice is pleading and Pansy only kisses her harder.

"You reek of alcohol." The Slytherin says in an arrogant, disdainful voice, and her body draws away as she turns on a tap that releases fuchsia bubbles, moving her body away from Ginny's, and taking with her the fiery aura that has grown completely irresistible to the younger witch. Ginny draws closer involuntarily, and Pansy pretends she doesn't feel the hot breath stirring the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry." Ginny Murmurs softly in the older girl's ear. She's a little startled when Pansy turns to face her with that familiar haughty smirk.

"Are you actually _apologizing_ Weasley? I didn't know commoners like you were capable of manners."

"Don't be such a dumb snob."

The clean _slap_ of Pansy's hand colliding with Ginny's face echoes strangely off the tiles and Ginny doesn't understand the flush rising in her chest or the overpowering urge she feels to kiss the older girl in response.

Pale fingers tangle in red hair and Ginny is pulled into a kiss that teaches her how sharp Pansy's little white teeth really are. She lets the feelings all wash over her, helpless and completely unable to say a single word to stop this.

Pansy draws away again, smirks down at Ginny, and the younger witch doesn't know how she's supposed to be able to stand all of this _waiting_, but she can't stand the thought of stopping so she can barely make herself breathe, and complaining is out of the question.

"I always knew you were a pervert, Weasley."

Amber eyes, still so soft and innocent, grow wide. "What?"

"You like this" Pansy emphasizes the last word, moving closer one again, and Ginny's body refuses to move, refuses to do anything but drift slowly closer to Pansy, closing the distance between them in immeasurably small units, increments so tiny she wonders if they might never completely touch.

"No…" Ginny mutters, but the word falls flat under the gust of hot, needy breath tickling Pansy's ear.

The raven haired vixen raises an eyebrow, and Ginny inhales sharply as the other girl begins to roughly tear away Ron's old pajamas. The cool air against Ginny's skin makes her nipples impossibly hard, and she blushes because she hates the way even her breasts are dusted with tiny freckles. Pansy leans in close, uttering two words in a low, dangerous tone.

"You're lying."

And Ginny can feel the impossible, embarrassing heat pooling in her cheeks as Pansy scrapes sharp, catlike nails down a naked, freckled back. Pansy's chalk white cheeks take on a tiny hint of color as she drinks in the widening of the redhead's eyes, and the younger girl's unmistakably aroused sharp intake of breath.

"You love this." Pansy asserts in Ginny's ear, "the danger, the fear, how wrong it is, and how incredibly alive it makes you feel." Pansy moves closer. "Go ahead, prove me wrong. You're free to leave if you don't wish to stay."

"Maybe I will." Ginny wants to kick herself for the feeble, weak sound of her own words. What is it about Pansy that leaves her so disgustingly helpless?

"No, you won't, and we both know that, don't we?" Pansy breathes in her ear, pulling the lanky redhead closer.

"Why… why wouldn't I leave right now? You're disgusting, Parkinson."

"You won't leave right now," Pansy's voice lilts, soft and deadly, "because if you do, you'll spend the rest of your life lying awake at night, wondering where this would have gone."

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Go, then. See if I care." For the first time tonight, Pansy sounds insecure, unconvincing.

"No."

"What?"

"You're making it sound like this is a big deal. Maybe it is to you, but it isn't to me. I don't care enough to try to run away. Do whatever it is you think will change me so intensely and irreversibly. See if I care."

For two heartbeats, no one breathes, and then suddenly Ginny's back is pressed against the cold, hard floor and Pansy is everywhere, thin lips on soft lips, pale, graceful hands tumbling in feral leaps over Ginny's body, feline nails leaving angry red welts.

Both girls are gasping for air and their bodies press closer together, desperate for sensation, aching for release, still young and unsure of their own desires.

Finally, Pansy hears the word she's been waiting for.

"Please…"

"Please what, Weasley?"

"Let me touch you. God, let me taste you like you tasted me."

Pansy can't fight the visceral response the younger girl's pleads elicit, so with her best attempt at a snobbish smirk she lies back and submits to the nibbles and kisses that rain over her newly exposed breasts and down her stomach, until Ginny's hot mouth is fluttering up her inner thighs, and she can't help but moan.

Ginny smiles up at her in a way that looks distinctly Slytherin to Pansy.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Shut up" the dark haired woman moans, tangling alabaster fingers in brilliant red hair and jerking Ginny's head back down to her body.

The younger girl's tongue is impossibly hot on Pansy's cool skin, and she cries out, wrapping clawlike hands around Ginny's neck as the sensations build in the pit of her stomach.

Pansy cries out as blindingly bright waves of pleasure crash through her body, feeling Ginny moan into her body as those long slender fingers pull mercilessly at strands of scarlet silk.


End file.
